ome petals of flowers upon the surface of
the tinkling water, and walked on up the narrow valley, chattering in
childish voices, and laughing with a twitter that was like the twitter
of birds.

In the soft darkness he walked slowly back to his hotel. And that night
he slept better than he had ever slept in Pera.

On the following day there was still no message from the Villa Hafiz,
and he did not see Mrs. Clarke. He took a row boat, with a big Albanian
boatman for company, and rowed out on the Bosporus till they came in
sight of the Black Sea. The wind got up; Dion stripped to his shirt and
trousers, rolled his shirt sleeves up to the shoulders, and had a long
pull at the oars. He rowed till the perspiration ran down his lean body.
The boatman admired his muscles and his strength.

"Inglese?" he asked.

Dion nodded.

"Les Inglesi tres forts, molto forte!" he observed, mixing French with
Italian to show his linguistic accomplishments, "Moi tres fort aussi."

Dion talked to the man. When he left the boat at the quay he said
he would take it again on the morrow. The intention to go away from
Buyukderer, to drown himself again in the uproar of Pera, was already
fading out of his mind. Mrs. Clarke's silence had, perhaps, reassured
him. The Villa Hafiz did not summon him. He could seek it if he would.
Evidently it was not going to seek him.

Again he felt grateful to Mrs. Clarke. Her silence, her neglect of him,
increased his faith in her friendship for him.

His second day in Buyukderer dawned; in the late afternoon of it, now
sure of his freedom, he went to the Villa Hafiz.

He did not know that Mrs. Clarke was rich. Indeed he had heard in London
that she only had a small income, but that she "did wonders" with it.
In London he had seen her at Claridge's and at the marvelous flat
in Knightsbridge. Now, at Buyukderer, he found her in a small, but
beautifully arranged and furnished, villa with a lovely climbing garden
behind it. Evidently she could not live in ugly surroundings or among
cheap and unbeautiful things. He saw at a glance that the rugs and
carpets on the polished floors of the villa were exquisite, that the
furniture was not merely graceful and in place but really choice and
valuable, and that the few ornaments and pieces of china scattered
about, with the most deft decision as to the exactly right place for
each mirror, bowl, vase and incense holder, were rarely fine. Yet in the
airy rooms there was n